Eva returned to her former seat. "Not altogether." She hesitated, and then looked anxiously at her old nurse, who stood with folded arms frowning and rigid. "You believe in dreams, Mrs. Merry?" "As I believe that Merry was a scoundrel, and that my boy will take after him, as he does," said the woman, nodding sadly; "misery ain't surer nor dreams, nor taxes which allays come bringing sorrow and summonses with 'em. So you dreamed last night?" "Yes. You know I went to bed early. I fell asleep at eight and woke at nine, trembling." "Ah!" Mrs. Merry drew nearer--"'twas a baddish dream?" "A horrible dream--it was, I think, two dreams." "Tell it to me," said the old woman, her eyes glittering. Eva struck her closed fist on the sill. "No," she cried passionately, "it's impossible to tell it. I wish to forget." "You'll remember it well enough when the truth comes." "Do you think anything will come of it?" "It's as sure as sure," said Mrs. Merry. Eva, less superstitious, laughed uneasily, and tried to turn the subject. "Allen will be at the gate soon," she said. "I'm walking to the common with him for an hour." "Ah well," droned Mrs. Merry, "take your walk, Miss Eva. You won't have another when _he_ comes home." "Nurse!" Eva stamped her foot and frowned. "You make my father out to be a----" "Whatever I make him out to be, I'll never get near what he is," said Mrs. Merry viciously. "I hate him. He ruined my Giles, not as Giles was much to boast of. Still, I could have talked him into being a stay-at-home, if your pa--there--there--let him be, say I. If his cup is full he'll never come home alive." Eva started and grew deathly pale. "My dream--my dream," she said. "Ah yes!" Mrs. Merry advanced and clutched the girl's wrist. "You saw him dead or dying, eh, eh?" "Don't, nurse; you frighten me," said Miss Strode, releasing her wrist; then she thought for a moment. "My dream or dreams," said she after a pause, went something after this fashion. "I thought I was in the Red Deeps----" "Five miles from here," muttered Mrs. Merry, hugging herself. "I know the place--who better? Red clay and a splash of water, however dry." "Ah, you are thinking of the spring!" said Eva starting; "it was there I saw--oh no--no," and she closed her eyes to shut out the sight. "What was it--what was it?" asked Mrs. Merry eagerly; "death?" "He was lying face downward in the moist red clay beside the spring of the Red Deeps!" "Who was lying?" "I don't know. I seemed to see the place and the figure of a man in dark clothes lying face downward, with his hands twisted helplessly in the rank grasses. I heard a laugh too--a cruel laugh, but in my dream I saw no one else. Only the dead man, face downward," and she stared at the carpet as though she saw the gruesome sight again. "How do you know 'twas your father's corpse?" croaked the old woman. "I didn't think it was--I didn't tell you it was," panted Eva, flushing and paling with conflicting emotions.